


Fit the Bill

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bloodplay, Dirty Talk, Dominance, M/M, Polyamory, Sexual Content, mentions of Dave/Terezi/Karkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terezi Pyrope is a busy girl, and there are times when she can’t watch her boys as closely as she’d like to. She has to trust them with each other, and that is always just a little bit worrying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fit the Bill

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr request fic for user bored4days.

.

.

.

When Terezi is around, things are easy. She decides what to do, what to eat, where to go. She takes other opinions into account of course, never forces anyone’s hand, but ultimately she is the only decisive party in the trio.

Dave is useless for decision making, shrugging and ‘whatever’ing at every opportunity.

Karkat will just work himself into a frazzled ball of stress trying to make simple choices, abandoning all aspects of the strong leadership role everyone _knows_ he can take.

They are a pair of useless nitwits, but they are Terezi’s useless nitwits and she loves them both, pities them both, with every tiny ounce of her being.

In private, she only takes control further. She is the mastermind behind their setup, the one who morphed Karkat’s days of chart making and strict, scheduled sharing into a messy mass of three-way emotion and physicality that seems to have fit the bill for all of them.

Dave gets his soft blondey head pet, told how absolutely cool he is. He gets to work out his aggression, the kind he has deep, deep down where he hopes no one notices.

Karkat gets to navigate the seas of romance, presenting Terezi with gifts and offers for dinner dates, movie days. He gets to stand up for himself when his plans are threatened by a meddling human who is really just trying to get his goat anyway.

The both of them get to know each other better, and are equally embarrassed to find out how similar they are.

And Terezi, she gets to keep both her boys under her mighty dragon wings.

She is breaking the rules as far as traditional quadrants go, which is especially thrilling to one so strongly devoted to a life of law and justice, and she is having the most fun possible while doing it.

But Terezi Pyrope is a busy girl, and there are times when she can’t watch her boys as closely as she’d like to. She has to trust them with each other, and that is always just a little bit worrying.

.

.

.

The tension in Dave’s room is thick. He and Karkat have been fighting, not over anything in particular, just because Karkat seems to be in the mood.

Dave’s not a conflict kind of guy himself, and putting up with an angry troll constantly in his face can get a little tiring, but he knows what Karkat’s angling for here and can’t totally blame him for trying.

Dude’s horny, simple as that. Dave can sympathize. But without the option of just initiating some kind of normal sex romp, throwing Dave on the bed or straight up telling him he wants to screw (because who the hell is ever that straight forward even?) he’s got nowhere to go but pretend to be pissed.

Just asking for sex is still weird. When Terezi’s not around, the whole quadrant flipping thing gets to Karkat’s head and he gets about fifteen different kinds of insecure.

Dave’s just at a loss for how to initiate anything that isn’t preceded by two hours of mumbled rambling and rhyme.

Without Terezi telling them to shut up and be friends, telling them to sit down and watch because she is going to do the sexiest courtroom strip show, telling them where and when and how to kiss each other, they are just a pair of useless fuckwits.

Dave suspects there’s another element to just how well he and his grumpy co-boyfriendsprit respond to Terezi’s commands, but he’s not about to get into that with himself, much less talk it over with sweet, gentle, foaming-at-the-mouth Karkles.

“Are you listening to me, you walking sewage pit?”

Just a few feet away, Karkat stands with his hands curled into fists, tense and nearly shaking. He looks at Dave accusingly, waits to get a rise out of him.

He’s going to have to keep on waiting because no, no Dave is not listening to him at all. He raises his eyebrows to silently tell him so, smirks at the way Karkat’s nostrils flare. Oh yeah, he’s looking to start something.

“Well open your fuckin’ hear ducts asshole, because I’ve got a list of points to touch on approximately the length of a whale’s digestive tract and every single one of them is a bullet with your ugly goddamn mug painted on it.”

Dave rolls his eyes, pre-emptively reaches up to slide off his shades.

It’s better to set them aside now so they don’t get broken later. He’s been down that road with Karkat before and it didn’t end well. It may have been the only time Terezi had to physically separate them.

The small motion makes Karkat pause, take a half step back. His expression is caught somewhere between smug and anxious, like everything is falling into place but he’s not quite ready for it yet.

Ready or not, Dave is making this happen. If no one’s going to guide them, someone has to try and take control. For the sake of his ego, he’s going to be that someone.

“Listen Strider,” Karkat starts, and his voice hardly wavers at all as Dave gets out of his chair, stands up and smirks at him, a half-hearted copy of Terezi’s own predatory grin, “You better sit the hell back down and let me talk this time or I swear to-“

Without letting him finish his threat, Dave moves into action. He grabs Karkat by the front of his shirt, pulls him forward and almost laughs at his look of surprise.

The expression fades to something less shocked when he pulls him close enough to kiss, just barely brushes his lips as he whispers, “Nah,” before shoving him hard, sending him stumbling back into the wall.

His body makes a muffled thud against the metal surface, his hand a louder bang as he slaps his palm against the wall, growling a little. Like he’s supposed to be intimidated.

Okay, Dave is a _little_ intimidated. Trolls can be scary, even nubby little ones like Karkat.

But he’s got a role to assume here, so he puts on his brave face (same face as all the rest,) and presses forward. He pins Karkat where he stands, easy, without a fight, and listens to the low growl deflate to a murmur as he slides a knee between his legs.

From here it’s simple, like clockwork, like any other time Terezi is nudging him along. Karkat melts as quickly as Dave would have expected, arching his back as a hand slides up under his shirt, gasping a rough noise when he drags his fingers over the slight, raised sets of scar tissue on his sides.

The sounds he makes go to Dave’s head way too fast, leave him feeling so much more in control. He kisses Karkat properly this time, pressing close to feel his alien heart hammer away in his chest, just a half beat off from the pulse of his own blood, loud in his ears and almost enough to drown out the memory of a suggestion to _pull his hair, Dave, he squeaks when you pull his hair._

Karkat’s hands are at his back, holding instead of pushing away, digging short, sharp nails into his sides, and Dave doesn’t have to pin him, not even a little. He works a hand into Karkat’s hair, tightens his grip and listens for the answering whine, the shudder that disrupts the slide of Karkat’s tongue against his own.

He’s thinking up something incredibly witty to say when Karkat’s nails dig a little too deep, drag forward to hook the inside of his jeans, scrape against the angles of his hip bones and then _he’s_ gasping, a short, breathy note that throws him off his game so fast it might as well have been a bat to the head.

 

Karkat takes advantage of the opportunity.

He pushes away from the wall, presses close to Dave and rolls his hips, cranes his neck just slightly to sink his teeth into Dave’s throat. Not hard, not deep, just enough to make him moan. He has Terezi’s warnings on repeat in his head, _human coolkids are soft, human coolkids don’t like when you hurt them_. But sometimes it’s hard to keep from hurting Dave a bit. He’s _so_ soft, so different, Karkat often forgets himself and tears into him a little too hard.

He tries to stay calm now, keep control. Out in the open like this he can pinpoint the exact second that Dave’s knees go weak, as weak as his own were moments ago, and when he shoves a hand down the front of the human’s pants he thinks they might give out entirely.

Dave is a stubborn fuck, won’t whimper the way Karkat knows he wants to, makes him work for it. He hisses at him, right in his ear, and grins at the broken-off swallowed down noise he very nearly makes when he mockingly calls him _coolkid_.

He gets Dave out his pants without hassle, palming his weird pink human bulge through his underwear, almost tripping in the tangle of fabric at their feet and growling again when Dave has the audacity to snicker.

 He snarls at him to shut up, manages to make it sound commanding and not just kind of whiney. He nudges Dave back, encourages him to step over the small pile of clothing between them and closer to his stupid flat cocoon- bed, whatever.

 He backs him up and up till he hits the edge of the mattress and his legs are so close to giving out, he just needs to push a little more.

“Down,” He says, quieter than he’d ever think to issue a command otherwise, and Dave sits on the edge of the bed, breath caught in his throat.

Karkat attacks.

He climbs into the human’s lap, settles himself there as he goes for Dave’s throat, nips and licks and makes him stutter and choke on whatever wiseass remark he’s trying to make.

Something about him being a “little eager,” but it’s tired old bullshit he’s heard before, the kind of thing Terezi would just strike from the record, so he ignores it and pinches one of Dave’s nipples between two fingers. Learning more about human anatomy has paid off, if the way Dave shivers is any indication.

He’s on a roll now, has Dave hard, heated, losing the ability to speak which is all he ever wants to do to the mouthy pain in the ass anyway, but when he grinds down against Dave’s cock he seems to regain the ability.

At the very least he remembers how to laugh.

A single snort derails the master plan Karkat was putting together on the fly, makes him pause with his teeth against Dave’s collarbone.

“What now? What could possibly be funny right now?” He demands, and he can practically _hear_ the pale fucking dipshit smirking at him as he rolls his hips up, just slightly.

“Don’t mean to laugh at you, bro. S’just kind of hilarious that you can’t go five seconds without humping my meat wrench like a desperate slut.”

And it takes Karkat a moment because Dave’s vocabulary is constantly confusing him, but then he gets it and his face goes hot. He doesn’t even bother biting in retaliation, just leans back to show the guy how legitimately pissed he is, that this is not a laughing matter. Sex is serious and romance is serious and Dave never _gets_ that and it makes Karkat want to punch him.

“I am _not_ -“ Karkat starts, but Dave cuts him off with a quick pair of hands sliding up under his shirt, tugging it up so fast it gets caught halfway over his face and leaves them both frustrated.

“Damn, thought that’d work,” Dave muses.

“Fuckernghffaghad-“ Is about all Karkat can manage with a mouth full of fabric. He puts his arms up, only to get the shirt off and out of his way, and resumes complaining as soon as possible.

“I’m not fucking desperate, first off,” He snaps, lowers his arms again and very briefly contemplates wrapping his hands around Dave’s throat, “And second, I’m only in your lap because it’s easier than standing around and watching you lose your fucking footing while your worryingly small collection of neurons collapses in on itself.”

“Sure man, keep tellin’ yourself that,” Dave says, so smooth, so composed Karkat is almost impressed, is completely distracted when the human’s hand works its way right into his hair again, pulls him in close, sharp, so he squeaks.

He’s still wincing, fighting the urge to squirm, when Dave speaks low, so soft and nonchalant it should be no big deal but _god_ it turns Karkat’s insides upside-down, “Can’t fool me, though. I’ve heard you beg for this shining example of manhood before.”

 

Dave flips everything.

In one smooth move he’s got Karkat on his bed, on his back, wide eyed and looking like he’s swallowed a bag of pineapples.

Dave is so sure that Terezi would be cackling as he kneels on either side of Karkat’s legs and tells him he knows how bad he wants his dong, might be willing to let him have it for a price.

Karkat goes up on his elbows, bares his teeth dangerously close to Dave’s dick and asks whether it’s a dong or a meat wrench or a goddamn spam porpoise, or if he could possibly make up his fucking mind about what to call his bulge one of these days.

Really though, dangerously close to his dick is not really such a bad place, Dave thinks, when he can simply tell Karkat to watch his fangs and suck like a good boy.

It only takes a minute or so of petting his jaw, admitting that he looks _damn_ pretty like this, stroking his hair so he just barely brushes the base of one horn, and Karkat melts.

He leans into Dave’s hand, moans when he circles his horns with two sets of fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind Dave holding on to them as he licks a line up from the base of his cock, gasps a needy little noise at each comment about how much more fun he is when his mouth is full.

Funny how that switch flips again, takes him from fierce leader to pliant partner, just the same as every time before, every time Terezi whispered in his ear to make Karkat pull away, to make him a mess so she could clean him up.

It’s not quite the same without a slick tongue against his ear too, but Karkat’s minding his teeth and behaving himself, and that alone is enough to push Dave awfully close to the edge.

And he’d love to splatter Karkat’s cheeks with cum, he really would, but the troll is gripping his thighs, edging closer to swallow him down and the bite of his claws is turning Dave on in an entirely different way, a way too distracting way, and he’s losing sight of his running commentary.

He leaves off somewhere around saying he wants to see him spit-roasted, laughs over Karkat’s confusion at the terminology again, and by then the troll’s hands have moved again.

Careful, sly, Karkat’s nudged a hand up behind his balls, has his fingers stroking teasingly against his ass and it’s really kind of maddening.

Frustrated, he pushes Karkat away, stares down at him with his mouth still open, watches it shut and shift into a grin because he forgot to pull his hair again, forgot to make him whimper and break, and now _the coolkid has to pay for his slip up_.

Terezi’s laughter plays in Dave’s head, mocking, as he gets shoved down on his back, lets his legs be spread.

 

Karkat takes control.

He remembers being told to strip, _if it would please the court, Mr. Vantas will now remove his shirt_ , but falters at the thought of any weird roleplay. He can’t. He just can’t.

He orders Dave out of his shirt instead, plain and simple, feels the quick, hot rush of power go straight to his head as the human listens.

He wriggles out of his pants, tries not to look too excited. He wets his fingers with his own mouth (hell if he’s letting Strider anywhere near any of his digits with the way he teases and twists things around to get his way,) and gets down to business.

He holds Dave down at the hip, carefully presses a finger into him, and watches him fight to keep cool.

It’s a losing battle, one he’s barely even putting any effort into, the lazy fuck.

But it’s alright. Karkat likes him like this, flung back on his horizontal sleeping area, flushed all over and panting. He watches Dave’s hips twitch up as he works his fingers into him, sees the way his eyelids flutter when he gets lucky and strokes just the right way, feels like a king.

He’s got this thing down, no question. He doesn’t know why he ever relied on Terezi to guide him in the first place. Like he needs help making some soft, squishy human squirm and gasp and plead-

Wait.

“Did you just say _please_?” Karkat nearly laughs, knows he must sound like the biggest jerkoff in the universe but he can’t possibly care, he’s too busy feeling the thrill that comes with driving Dave Strider to beg.

The human goes all red in the face, tenses up and he can tell it was an accident.

“Forgot where you were for a second there, Strider?” He offers, all smugness and fanged smiles, and the fact that Dave looks like he wants to spit in his face sends a shiver through him. There’s that weird three pronged attack of feelings- the hate he’s brimming with, the slight pity that claws at his throat every time Dave looks just a little too hurt, the strange kinship that comes with knowing he would do the exact same thing if their positions were reversed.

“No it’s cool man, I know there’s no blind dragoness hero coming to save me this time,” Dave quips, covers, “Get on with the ravishing already.”

Which isn’t such a bad plan actually, but Karkat isn’t about to let this go so easily. Dave may have been the one to start this dominance game, but he’s winning it now, and that entitles him to as much gloating as he likes.

“Oh no, I think I want to hear that again,” He insists, twists his fingers a little and watches Dave shiver, “You got yours already, now it’s my turn. Tell me how bad you want my bulge.”

“And what if I don’t want it?” Dave offers, wriggles slightly, like he’s trying to hide it.

“Then you’re a fucking liar. You’ve lost half your body weight in genetic material just _talking_ about the possibility of having my bulge stuffed crudely into any of your disgustingly available orifices in the past.”

Dave opens his mouth quick, shuts it, and Karkat almost thinks he’s going to deny it but then he says, really quiet, “Yeah but…that’s when she’s around.”

And Karkat knows exactly what he means. They look past each other a moment, lost in recollection of every time a shrill laugh punctuated an order to suck, to fuck, to moan on command, and almost in unison they both groan, have to pull themselves back to reality.

“Fuck,” Dave sighs.

“Beg for it,” Karkat counters.

“Fuck _off_ ,” Dave tries instead, and thrusts a hand into Karkat’s face, effectively flipping him off.

He ought to know better, really, and honestly he doesn’t seem all that surprised when Karkat snatches that hand, flips it over so Dave’s palm is open, and bites down viciously on the fleshy portion.

He barely winces, _always the coolkid_ , but when Karkat pulls back to examine the wounds he’s left behind, he can see the way Dave’s holding himself tense, keeping it together.

Dave doesn’t like blood much. Normally, neither does Karkat. They’ve shared awkward moments shying away from the stuff before, but when it comes to _this_ , to spilling just a touch of Dave’s blood, Karkat can’t resist.

It’s just so red, _cherry red, apple red, spicy cinnamon soaked peppers RED,_ so like his own, he becomes transfixed.

It’s a leap for him, a crazy, kinky, terrifying leap, to drag his tongue across the surface of Dave’s injured palm. He licks up the blood he’s drawn, just enough to coat his tongue, and the taste of it makes him shudder.

It’s disgusting, all thick and copper and salty, but it plays to some deeper instinct, makes him feel on edge, electric. He licks Dave’s hand again, wets his own lips, and slams the human’s arm back down against the bed, holding him there.

“ _Beg_ for it,” He insists, and there’s something goading him, something that speaks in his matesprit’s voice and coos to him softly that Dave can be _so_ good, will be so good, such a pretty, pretty, _delicious_ boy, just like him, so precious, so good, “Or I’ll tell her you’re misbehaving.”

He threatens Dave quietly, voice lowered to a soothing softness.

The reaction is immediate, embarrassingly familiar.

“Shit, no, I’ll be good, I promise.”

He’s an inch away from desperate, centimeters from shameless as he wriggles his hips, encourages Karkat to move again. He wants to laugh in the human’s face, mock him for how pink and panicked he looks, for how turned on he is by someone who _isn’t even there_ , but watching Dave is like looking at himself, and he really doesn’t need to dwell on his own faults any more than he already does.

He takes it out on Dave, gives in to him, shares this twisted up messy thing as he leans down and takes a kiss. He slips his fingers from the human’s body, replaces them with the slick length of his bulge, makes Dave whimper and plead aloud, all curses and frustration, before he actually fucks him.

He growls, buckles down, grabs at Dave’s legs and shoves them back, bends him so his knees are against his chest and he’s close to complaining of discomfort.

He shivers and gasps when pale fingers reach up and grasp his hair, pull at it like he’s got a head full of reigns.

He works his hips the way he’s told to, sharp and fast, purrs a content noise when Dave gasps a ‘yes,’ a hundred ‘yes’es that string together into a stuttering, hissing scratch of sound.

He makes the human writhe, tells him what to say and how to say it and Dave parrots back to him, just as breathless and broken as he wants to hear. It’s all ‘god yes please’ and ‘fuckmefuckme _fuckme_ ,’ complete nonsense that streams out of his mouth, uncontrolled. He responds to each filthy little suggestion with enthusiasm, dares Karkat to go further, further, till he’s hissing against his ear, detailing the way he wants to deny him his orgasm, spill his own genetic material inside him and make him ride his fingers after, use him and leave him absolutely coated in red as he begs to get off.

Terezi would love it.

Dave says he’s sick, _s-s-s-sick_ , and eats it up like it’s coming from their girl’s own lips.

Karkat figures this is about when she’d tell them to kiss again, tells himself that so he’s got an excuse to slide his tongue against Dave’s, muffle the sound he makes when he comes.

Dave’s hand is on his own dick in a second, thumb slicking over the head, and all it takes is a breathless, murmured reminder that _she_ would want to see him get off, and then he’s stifling a cry too, shivering head to toe.

They’re quiet then.

Calm.

Karkat pulls out and mumbles something that might be an apology for biting too hard, and Dave scoffs.

“I’ve been gnawed on by sharper fangs, man.”

They both know it’s true. But Karkat is always sort of bashful after sex, something Dave is starting to find endearing. It might just be because Terezi insists on pointing out to him how _incredibly adorable_ Karkat is, but he gets the feeling there’s a touch of genuine affection coming from somewhere deep down inside.

So Dave stretches out and arches his back, listens for the crackcrack _crack_ of his spine and smirks at the horrified face Karkat makes because of it.

He throws his arms overhead and raises his eyebrows, a silent invitation to lay still and be sweaty and disgusting for a while.

It’s an invitation Karkat accepts.

.

.

.

When Terezi finds the time in her busy schedule of meteor monitoring and justice dealing, she swings past Dave’s bedroom with the intention of checking on her favorite coolkid.

She’s always got an ear out for trouble, and if what she’s hearing from concerned parties (Kanaya) are any kind of truth, then there was some kind of scuffle going on here earlier in the evening. Reports thus far have suggested a scuffle, perhaps a full out brawl, judging from the growling, banging, gasping, and cursing heard.

Terezi knows it isn’t right to be investigating a case she’s so personally invested in but where, pray tell, are the other legislacerators on this rock? Nowhere, you say? Exactly. She is the only one.

So she slips down the hall to Dave’s room, listening along the way, smelling for signs of disaster.

Upon reaching his door, however, she stops, sniffs.

No hint of disaster…but just one smell confirms her suspicions.

There is definitely more than one delicious candy red scented lover behind that door.

Pressed flat against the metal panel, she takes in a deep whiff, smells sex, smells fruit juice and cheese snacks, the electric fizzle that fills a room as a DVD plays.

She smells camaraderie, like a dusting of iron in the air, and feels a swell of pride for her boys.

She doesn’t know why she was ever worried.

Grin in place, she enters the room without knocking, hears a bed shift as two heads turn in her direction, and gets ready to throw her weight around.

.

.

.

 

 

 


End file.
